


Snippets Of Us

by ghettoassenglishman



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Drabbles, Fluff, Humor, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Movie Night, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Svetlana makes soup
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 09:25:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3441950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghettoassenglishman/pseuds/ghettoassenglishman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>25 Drabbles of Ian and Mickey's daily life based on 25 quotes from this; http://archiveofourown.org/works/3441272 (it won't let me link up the little basturd)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I'd Rather Die

 

**"I'd Rather Die"**

Mickey walked out of his bedroom only to be hit by the smell of chicken, very strong-blocking your nose kinda chicken. Facing the kitchen he found his boyfriend consumed within a bowl of yellow looking liquid with little chunks of meat in it. “Someone kill a fucking dog in here, Jesus.” 

 

Ian laughed around his spoon, grinning towards the cursing Russian. “Its soup Mickey, Svetlana made it. It delicious, here try some?” The redhead held out his spoon for Mickey to grab, eyebrows wiggling towards the grumpy man. 

 

“Fuck that, I've tasted her cooking.” He glared towards the bowls contents, dodging the smack that flew his way from the kitchen. “I'd rather die.”

 

Ian dropped the spoon and tilted his head, “Well its pretty fucking good so sit your stubborn ass down and have some, she's been cooking for hours.” Ian kicked the chair out that was opposite him, a bowl was already set out at the table. Svetlana was in the middle of feeding Yev, her own bowl wiped clean. 

 

“I ain't eating soup when I have perfectly good pizza bagels waiting for me.” He opened the fridge, only to find nothing for him to cook. This was fucking ridiculous, as tempting as it sounded he wasn't going to have Ian say “I told you so.” like the smug fucker he was.

 

“Sack that, I'm not even hungry.” Mickey grunted, slamming the fridge door and snatching Ian's beer off the table. 

 

The redhead scoffed around his spoon, mouth still mildly full. “Well this is a first.” He earned a smack and spilt a little bit of soup against the table, but nothing was as tasty as the fucking soup. Well, maybe Mickey. 

 

“Well, I am hungry for one thing.” Mickey winked, grinning like a idiot towards his distracted lover. Ian peeped his head up, Adams apple bobbing as he swallowed down the soup, something Mickey found hard not to get hard over. 

 

“You want to fuck eachother? Finish soup first,orange boy.” Svetlana warned him, smacking them both around the head. Ian nodded sheepishly, already batching up some soup for the other boy.

 

 


	2. Did You Hear That?

**"Did you hear that?"**

Ian had been rambling for almost an hour, he had gotten back from seeing the Gallagher's and hadn't stopped like a machine gun since the word go. “So then Sammi came in and started talking about some guy she tried hitting on at the bar, she was totally bummed about it, and the crazy shit was he described his type just to be like me.” His eyes widened, he hadn't even noticed Mickey was looking even more uncomfortable. “Guess you're not the only gay in southside that has a thing for redhead's huh, you gotta little bit of competition.”

 

God, Ian was so dumb at times. “Did you ever think that the guy she was hitting on was me?” Mickey asked as if it was the stupidest thing he had ever heard. 

 

“Holy shit.” Ian finally realised, laughing to himself from his own stupidity. Never would he think that Mickey would talk about him like that...wait...”You told her my dick was nine inches? What the fuck Mickey.” 

 

“Shut up, you want me to tell her your junk is fucking useless because it ain't let me tell you.” Mickey grinned, wanting this to lead to something more...something much more. He grabbed at Ian's ass, but the fucker was still talking.

 

“I can't believe you told her that. I mean I'm fucking flattered but if any of the others work that shit out they would all be scarred for life, ah shit. Fiona was actually asking Sammi if she knew who the redhead was for..I'm not thinking that!” He shook his head, ready to speak again before two fingers pushed against his lips. 

 

“Did You hear that?” Mickey asked, looking up. 

 

Ian turned the lamp on and shifted up against the headboard. “Hear what? Is someone downstairs? I hear nothing.” 

 

“Exactly, _Nothing_. And that's how I want it to fucking be so shut up you dick, I want a sleep.” Mickey rose an eyebrow, setting back onto the single pillow, eyes closing.

 

“You asshole.” Ian chuckled, squeezing himself back into his small space that was tangled with Mickey's.

 

“I'll put my boot up yours if you don't shut up.” 

 


	3. I know what I saw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still not over that artists painting frank ok

**"I know what I saw."**

 

“Mickey!” Ian belched out as he stormed through the Milkovich home. “Mick!” 

 

The brunette's grumble echoed through the hallway that connected the bedrooms to the living room. “What the fuck you shouting for? Can't I have a shower in fucking peace.” 

 

Ian's eyes were plastered to the wet abs and toned chest Mickey had on full display, but he could get to that later, first he had to tell Mickey his newly found news that he had literally been shocked for his life about. “You never guess what I just saw.” 

 

“Hm, how about me wanting to grill your ass for making me get out of the shower for one of you shitty stories?” Mickey suggested, smirking as Ian showed him his middle finger. 

 

“Fuck off.” Ian huffed before stepping closer and removing his coat. “I went past that new art gallery place, with all that weird stuff that freaks you out, and there was life size fucking painting of Frank.” He would never get that image of his head, but seriously, how the fuck did it happen?

 

Mickey bit his lip, holding back his laughter, “Man, you feeling alright? Who the fuck would want to paint that drunks ass.” He placed his hands on his hips, because seriously, how the fuck would that happen. 

 

“I know what I saw, Mick.” Ian rubbed at his face. “They must of fucking liked him, that painting is going for 700 bucks!” he waited for Mickey's reaction, which was what he expected. 

 

“Who the fuck would pay 700 bucks for a painting of Frank Gallagher?” 

 

“Someone, obviously, because its been sold today.” Ian finalised, cringing at the thought of Frank hanging up on someone's wall, butt naked. Frank butt naked was e-fucking-nough. 

 

“Some crazy fucking people, Jesus.” Mickey turned around so he could walk back to the shower, smirking to himself when he heard Ian pad behind him. 

 

Ian had stripped from his clothes on the way there, “It is fucking crazy, someone has a butt naked Frank going up on their wall. who wants that shit?” 

 

“Sheila probably.” 


	4. That Doesn't Make Sense.

**"That doesn't make sense."**

 

It was friday, Ian usually called it date night but really it was just – eat yourself to death and eachother until we pass out while watching some movie we aren't really watching.- Tonight's suggestion was Inception, for the basis of Ian want to fuck Leonardo DiCaprio and Mickey wanted to watch it to point out obvious reasons why he would he was better in bed, and because Ian was right Leo was a piece of eye candy. 

 

It was halfway through the film and yet again Mickey moaned, “That doesn't make sense.” He half-turned to Ian who was fully engrossed in the film, his bowl of popcorn resting on Mickey's legs. “How the fuck can they go into someone’s dream and then go into another dream, its bullshit.” 

 

“The whole film doesn't make sense Mickey, I think its made to fuck us up. Now sh, we're getting to the good part.” The red head slapped at Mickey's twitching legs, eyes moving back to the screen and hand scooping up more popcorn to put into his mouth. 

 

“This is bullshit.” 

 

“You've already said that.” Ian offered back. 

 

“Why can't we just fuck, since when did we ever watch a fucking movie _all_ the way through and not get a little action?” He rose his eyebrow trying to temp the other man, because he was right, they never got through a full movie without their hands being all over eachother. 

 

Ian gave him are-you-serious-face and animatedly ate through his popcorn. Jaw clenching. “I like this film so suck it up, there's like twenty minutes left of it or some shit.” 

 

“I like you so lets get down to it and fuck on the couch.” Mickey bluntly remarked because he couldn't take this anymore, the film was driving him mad. 

 

Ian giggled to himself, he never knew Mickey to be such a horndog because of a dumb-ass film, it was kind of cute. “You're so thirsty you know that? How about we watch the rest of this and I'll fuck you into the couch _and_ in the kitchen?” 

 

Fuck, Mickey couldn't disagree to that. “Fine but you owe me a hummer too.”


	5. Promise me...you'll never do that again.

 

**Promise me...you'll never do that again."**

 

 

 

Ian had gone down to see Lip down at the college, Mickey instantly rejected because he wasn't prepared for college-fucks with snobby attitudes and annoying voices. Ian didn't mind them so much, they reminded him of what he could have had and he loved how free they were. Mickey would have been bribed into if he wasn't on baby-duty all weekend. He had just set Yev down and yet again he had to lay within the freezing-cold bed that seemed to be eating him alive.

 

Staring at the ceiling wasn't as fun as he pretended it to be, it kind of reminded him of the nights he had to stare upwards because he hated the sight of a pregnant Russian next to him – how things have changed. Usually though, it drifted him off to sleep and his eyes were already beginning to droop. 

 

Just as they closed, and the darkness took over, he heard the bedroom door creak open. The light footsteps, he knew were purposely, being careful walked around the bed. There was a drop of a heavy bag, a chuck of shoes and a zip of a jacket. Mickey already knew who it was just by his scent. Jesus, he was turning into a dog or some shit. The bed dipped as the body of his lover slid under the covers. 

 

“Bout fucking time.” He grumbled, eyes still closed. 

 

“You miss me, Mick?” Ian snuggled himself into Mickey's side, his skin cold against Mickey's cosy cocoon of blankets. “You didn't have to wait up y'know?” 

 

Without prompt, Mickey formed the words that had been partying in his mind for the past three days. “Promise me...You'll never do that again.” God, he was such a fucking clingy-bitch, who would of known. 

 

Ian eyed him cautiously, “Do what?”

 

“You know what.” Mickey closed his eyes, trying to block out the conversation and wait for Ian just to drift out. He knew better though. Ian wouldn't let this go. 

 

“Seriously Mickey I don't have a fucking clue.” God, he looked so adorable when he was confused. 

 

Mickey rubbed his face with his freehand, wishing their was something to drown out his words because god, he'd never been so cringy. “You fucking left and the bed was cold. I couldn't sleep, aright?”

 

Ian's face softened and he snuffled his face into the crook of Mickey's neck. “Aw, did big-bad-thug Milkovich miss me?” His fingers danced against Mickey's skin, over the bumps of his abs and down by his hips. 

 

“Fuck off I didn't miss your ginger ass.” 

 

Ian giggled onto his skin, making him shiver, the redhead pulled the cover up further. “ _Sure._ Whatever you say mr-the-bed-was-cold-because-you-weren't-here.” 

 


End file.
